


Supernatural Story Cravings

by wildgirl509



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel Smut Brigade, Established Crowley/Bobby Singer, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Multi, Multiple Orgasms, Multiple Pairings, Multiple Relationships, Smut, Sweet Relationships, reverse!verse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-22
Updated: 2016-03-22
Packaged: 2018-05-26 23:29:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6260356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildgirl509/pseuds/wildgirl509
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When I want some Supernautral smut or fluff, I'll just write it out for the public to enjoy. I'll take requests, I'm not shy.~ I ship just about anything, and Crobby is my OTP. If you want something, message me at @yaoiqueen433.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Reverse! Verse Crobby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bobby is our precious little Southern King of Hell, and our little Crowley is a gruff Irish hunter. That can't be too terribly bad, right? We'll see....

There he was. The damned demon that wanted the Cult so bad that he was willing to kill others of his own kind to get his hands on it. It disgusted him. It made him want to spit on those shiny and clean parlour shoes and dirty them, but taking the chance of him escaping from his one fatal mistake was too great. He looked over the creature standing before him, eyes taking in all the details. The tall, long legs that were comfortable in those black slacks, hands shoved into the comfortable looking pockets, exposing the brown leather belt with the silver clasp. The suit jacket of a matching material, a shirt of black underneath with a blue gemed bolotie resting on his chest. He looked at the well kept and evenly trimmed beard of a warm ginger colour that cupped his strong jaw expertly. Those soft, sky blue eyes watched the other as well, the silver-tinted orange hair slicked and combed back to expose his.... Devilishly handsome face. "Hello," Those rough and chapped lips spoke lowly, a warm and smooth Southern accent dripping out like poisonous honey, "It seems as if you've been expectin' me." He looked at the Devil's Trap on the floor and gave a soft look of disapproval, then looked to his smaller counterpart. The man in question had soft brown hair that was a bit messy but otherwise in line, a thick bomber jacket covering his wide shoulders and a dirty 'Whiskey Stitches' shirt that was a bit too long, touching the top of his thighs. He wore slightly ripped jeans that were caked in dirt and blood, boots that were shockingly clean compared to his entire outfit. He took the Cult from his pocket and held it near his cheek, taunting the caught demon. "What? Given that you've been scouring the mortal realm for this old relic," He chuckled and pointed it up, looking at the opposing ceiling to keep collected, "Well, it was just a matter of time before you found me." He looked at the demon, almost purring out his question as he pulled the hammer into a firing position. "So, what need does a demon have for a gun that kills it's own kind?" He smirked a bit at the calm face, a bit raged at such a cool and collected look. He was in charge, and just a BIT of fear would have settled him in happiness. No matter, he had his own ways of striking that fear. He pointed the gun, aiming right between those pretty little brows of his. "Other than to take yet ANOTHER weapon out of the hands of us, 'puny' humans." He dropped the bit of smirk he had, "I hope you don't expect me to just hand it over out of the, 'goodness' of my heart and your good looks." The demon gave a slow smile, hands finally retreating from their pockets and forming outwardly to show a sign of calmness, of surrender. "Not at all.~" The demon's eyebrows knit a bit at his thoughts, "Thing is, I don't want the gun. My charges do. Rumours are floatin' about that say this piece of hardware's capable of killing LUCIFER. Y'know, what with the comin' Apocalypse and all. Guessing a smart boy like you 'salready seen some of the signs..." The Irishman twirled his gun, gripping the barrel with a steady hand, shaking his head with a bit of disbelief. "Huh. Interesting. A demon that WANTS the devil dead, AND to prevent the end of the world... What a novel concept." He sighed, thoughts pooling to one area of his brain, holding up the butt of the handgun close to his head. "I'm probably going to regret this in the morning... But..." He held out the gun to the taller, looking at him with a slight lift to the corners of his softened mouth. "Here." And just like that he was startled again, a calloused hand wrapping around his jacket-wrapped wrist and pulling him startlingly close.... Enough for him to taste those lips that he had been staring at for those past moments. They were rough, and a bit cracked, but they were so firm and inviting, his eyes were wide with shock and surprise. The beard didn't help, his stubble a bit rough against it. The demon pulled away, breathing softly over those freshly kissed lips, "Thank you...." And just like that, a cloud of red appeared in the middle of the triangle, the Cult and handsome demon gone. "How-!?" And then, he looked down. Right where his foot had slid at being yanked to the kiss, to the manipulative face of beauty... And messed up the trap. "Ah SHITE!" He smacked his face and dragged his hand down, groaning angrily. "Played, by a damn DEMON! Just my luck!" He looked at the chalk, frowning a bit, then smiling to himself. "Heh.... He'll be back..." He stepped out of his basement, whistling softly. "They always do...."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reverse!Verse was originally inspired by @gorlassar, the art was very inspiring to me! :)


	4. Death and Dean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean wants to give Death the day off. Death is always working. So what are a few minutes going to hurt?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't see a whole lot of Death and Dean, so I guess my craving gave me this idea! Also, I was tired when I wrote this, SO.

He looked at the trap set and gripped his sweaty palms a few times before he looked at the meal he brought for the Horseman, a New York cheesecake and some gelato, and wiped his palms on his shirt. He wasn't sure why he thought this was a good idea, but he also didn't want to have to owe Death anything that could be used against him in the future. He sighed and lit the match, then threw it into the bowl of mixed items. Almost instantly the apartment he was in started shaking, forcing him to grip the table to stay steady. Over half the damned town was underground, and this was NOT his idea of fun. As soon as the shaking stopped, he heard an ANGRY voice, very collected but not raised in the slightest. "You had better have a GOOD reason for trapping me against my will." He held up his wrist, and Dean ran his fingers through his brown hair. "Listen, Death... You work a shit ton. I owe ya, a lot. You know, back with Sammy, and telling us about Cas... I just... This was the only way I could think of." The older gentleman raised a brow and Dean swallowed, unbuttoning his flannel and walking to the food he had. "How long has it been since Death has gotten off?" "I beg your pardon?" He kept looking at the food, heat rising to his cheeks, "You heard me. When was the last time a Horseman got his rocks off?" "Dean, how is this helping your case of paying me what you owe?" He shrugged a bit, cheeks heated as he opened the cake tin, "You like cheesecake? Made in the state. Best of the US." He turned, some on his thumb. "I'm just sayin', if I let you... Fool around, with my body, I guess we could be a bit even, huh...? Your job offers no time to get some lovin' in, and since your Reapers don't seem too willing..." Death tapped his cane to the floor, "You don't seem to understand this situation, Dean. Anyone I touch, DIES." "IF you aren't their bitch." Dean pointed at him, then licked the cheesecake from his thumb. Dean looked at Death, whom was now watching him with a steady gaze with those mild brown eyes of his, and then smeared some of the cake on his chest for a bit more measure. They shared a look, the moment no longer than a minute but feeling like years before Death shpwed ANY reaction. He stood, walking to him with a steady, slow, even pace, cane tapping along with his leather shoes. He walked right up to him, a bit taller than the other whilst standing straight up, and their eyes connected with a silent conversation. He soon picked some of the cake from his chest, lapping it off of his finger. "It IS good cheescake..." Dean breathed a bit now as his fears slowly fell away, then his breath hitched as he felt the other's tongue run up his skin. "This is a one time deal, and you will release me as soon as it's over, understood?" Dean nodded shakily, then Death lapped at the soft skin of the other's chest. Dean bit his lip, trying to stay a bit quiet as he let the other do what he wished with his body. But oh damn was he bad at that. He let out soft and nervous little breaths, those cold hands holding his lovehandles with an unusual calmness and a firm grip. He felt one hand let go and felt some more of the sugary treat be smeared on his skin, on his neck and collarbone, his neck being attacked first. He felt so strange, being overpowered by someone so... Well, old, but it just felt so good... He gave a breathy moan as he latched his lips onto his neck, tongue swirling at the sight of the sweetness. His nerves tingled, fingers digging into his shoulders a bit as he tried (and failed) to keep his composure. A hand opened the front of his belt buckle, slipping it out with ease and a hand tracing the hair running down his navel. He gave a soft sound, then felt the taller pull away and touch at his hair. "You offered yourself to ME. I never once said I would get you off in return." He grimaced a bit but didn't question it, sliding onto his knees and running his hands up and down his thighs sensually to try and get some sort of reaction from the male looming over him. It was a wonderful success, a nice tent in his pants and a bit of a purr slippong into his vlice as the smirk rose at the corners of his mouth. "You have my permission to open them, by means, don't be shy..." Dean blushed a bit more and leaned forward, mouthing over the erection to get a feel for it. Slender, and not too terribly sizable in length, easy to take in with a calm throat. He slowly undid the other's pants, slipping them and the undergarments down his legs to his mid-thighs. His legs were pale, but actually a bit more young than he imagined. He eyed the member, studying it with an actual fascination. It was circumsized, and the same shade of ash as his legs. He looked at his face before leaning forward, tongue tapping at the tip with a soft breath from his nose. He had a terrible gag reflex, and he wished it was otheriwse... He lapped at him a few times, getting accustom to the taste before taking the head into his pretty, dark, partially swollen lips, and looking up at him with those pretty hazel eyes. It was a true sight to see, Dean Winchester on his knees, fingers hooked on a man's thighs, pretty lips wrapped around a beauty of a member like a bow on a Christmas gift. Dean slurped around him, tongue running over the underside with a moan at the back of his throat. The feeling was so stimulating to him, he could feel himself tenting in his own pants. He felt those slender, long fingers lace into his hair, guiding his head back and forth on the rod, taking a bit more than he wanted to. He choked a bit and pulled back, mouth drooling as he wiped at his bottom lip. "B-be careful... I ain't no party guy..." Death simply nodded, coaxing his mouth back open with his thumb massaging his bottom lip and some gentle words. Dean took it back in, and Death didn't have long before he was shoving his member in the back of Dean's throat unexpectedly, making him gag over the erection gushing into his mouth, making him drool and cough. Death pulled away once he was done and grabbed his cheesecake and took a bite, humming. "Tastes better while looking at a messy little Winchester." Dean looked up, wiping his mouth clean. "Fuck you..." "Other way, darling."


	11. Virgin Mary... Somewhat. (Crowley, Bobby, Balthazar)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basically I was talking with my friend about a virgin Mary style story, and got this. It's not exactly to par, but I thought it would be funny for Crowley to throw a hissy fit and to see Bobby completely shut off from alcohol. :)

It was a peaceful Thursday afternoon when Balthazar screwed up their lives. Bobby was watching some older show with Crowley's head on his lap, Crowley himself interested in just playing with Bobby's shirt ends. Bobby didn't seem to care, so neither of them really spoke about it. Bobby was soon speaking, though, tapping his shoulder. "Crowley, let me up." "What for?" He gave him a half-assed glare, "I need another beer." Crowley tsked him but sat up anyways, letting Bobby stand and walk to the fridge. He bent down, grabbing from the middle shelf, when he heard a new voice next to him. "My my, you really don't know control when you see it, do you?" He sighed and closed the door, his date night officially ruined. "Whaddya want, idjit?" "Oh, oh no, you misunderstand my intentions here." The blonde angel raised his hands, chuckling softly. "I, am going to give you that golden opportunity you let slip you by so many years ago. Of course, this will-" "What the hell are you talkin' out of your ass for?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My endings suck. A lot. We just have to accept this.


End file.
